Shadow Born
by Random One-Shot
Summary: Ordered by Zelda to assist Link whenever and however he can, Sheik of the Sheikah finds himself partnered to a hero of legend.
1. Just A Kid Part 1

_Title: Shadow Born_

_Rating: __T, for teen._

_Summary: __Ordered by Zelda to assist Link whenever and however he can, Sheik of the Sheikah finds himself partnered to a hero of legend. _

_Yes, it's the beginning of yet another OoT-from-Sheik's-point-of-view. Roll with me here, 'kay?_

* * *

><p>His name is Link.<p>

He is the Hero of Time.

If Hyrule is to be saved, he must succeed.

Those three things, a physical description seven years out of date and Her Highness' stories of their meetings were all I knew about this 'Link'. Hardly the necessary information for a successful completion of this assignment. Sadly, there was not much more to be had. The Kokiri Forest was sealed away from the outside world by magic as old as Hyrule and no one could risk going there unless they had no regard for their own life or unless they were Sheikah under orders. It amounted to the same thing, really.

But I had never been ordered to enter that place and so I remained nearly uninformed about this person, this Kokiri boy. It was disconcerting. My people had made his legend part of our duty for almost one thousand years, but we still knew so little. Now that he was finally here, we did not have more than a handful of facts about him. Information, that precious coin, was in such short supply. I was going to have to do this on my own; an unpleasant prospect.

It was night when the Hero came. Darkness had seeped into the desecrated town and hidden everything in black, which suited me perfectly as I never wanted any sort of confrontation taking place. There was, thankfully, nothing in the ruined town worth worrying about. Redeads and Poes are easily avoided. Lizalfoes, Stalfoes, Iron Knuckles, the human mercenaries he employed from time to time, Gerudo; those things were worth worrying about. The attention a clash could attract was worth worrying about. I was entering an area where the hammer of The Three was – quite literally – poised over my head.

I did not recognize the castle floating in the sky. That was… good. If he had kept it in its previous form, it would have been an even greater insult.

Dead things, twisted things, foul things, unclean things; they walked the streets and I slipped past them. Things that were once people lurked in the charred remains of what had once been the jewel of Hyrule. Did they remember that? I barely could.

So, he had stolen the castle and defiled the town. Why then did the Temple of Time stand inviolate and immaculate, hardly the worse for wear after seven years of neglect? Was it out of some twisted respect or reverence for the place where he had descended from the higher realm? Arrogance? I can believe that one, except it is not arrogance when it is the truth. The Black King thought himself a God King and no one had yet proved him wrong.

This one, this boy in green, would be the one to change that. So said Zelda Harkinian, my princess and master, and her foresight had never failed her yet.

The thought that this time might be that ominous 'yet' was calmly pushed away.

What will be, will be.

I entered the Temple of Time through the ruins of the market town and waited. I did not wait long. She had said it was the night and she was correct, as always. There was the static, hyper charged sensation of lightning about to strike and something like sunlight began gleaming down from the ceiling. There was no sun out, however, and even if there had been, it had not shined on that damned town for years.

It brightened, quickly becoming cuttingly intense and I shut my eyes. There was a knife in my hand, the end result of old habits. It amounted to nothing though. The light lasted for four beats of my heart and then faded as quickly as it came. When the light disappeared and I could look safely, there was a man standing on the dais of the Master Sword.

The Hero of Time.

Green tunic, red-gold hair, blue eyes and, after a moment, a small ball of white light drifted out from beneath his cap to hover in his personal space; that was Navi, the forest fairy.

So, it was he.

I was…

…I cannot find the words. How do you describe meeting a legend? Seeing for yourself that they are flesh and bone and blood?

He was no mythic figure, which is certainly the truth. The light faded, that searingly bright blue-white rushing vortex that had dropped him from the Sacred Realm, and what stepped out of the Goddesses' domain was a very mortal man. His first action after returning to the mortal world from a seven year absence was to look around wildly, stretching his gaze even up the high ceiling of the temple. Confusion was drawn all over his features.

It occurred to me just then that perhaps he no idea what had transpired. Perhaps he had lain hands on the blade as a child and then, suddenly, there he stood a man. Perhaps he would walk out of the temple and not understand why everything was bleak and dead. Perhaps he thought he had just only now entered the Sacred Realm and would set off in search of the Triforce.

But no; he did know what had happened, if only in the barest sense. I knew this the moment Navi flew up from his head and spoke, "Link… we're back in the Temple of Time. But have seven years really passed?"

Oh yes, small lady. They truly have.

He pulled something out from his pockets. His hand obscured it for a moment, but then I saw the object clearly. The Hero was holding a small slingshot, the kind that children play with. For a moment, I wondered why he had such a thing, but then I realized he must have carried it with him seven years earlier. As I saw it, the same hand that had likely fit perfectly around the slingshot's grip when he last pulled it out now made it appear weak and fragile.

His face gazed at the slingshot with blank incomprehension.

_How could this be?_ He seemed to be asking.

Hero, you have slept long.

The fairy seemed to take it as hard as he did. "It looks like you won't be able to use some of the weapons you found as a kid anymore…"

He had used it as a weapon? That was mildly impressive, something a Sheikah would do - turn an innocuous toy into an instrument of death.

He stared at it for a few moments longer and then slowly put it away. "Yeah, I guess not," he agreed.

His voice was not a man's, but it was not a boy's either. It was not the high pitched sound of a child, but had not yet fully deepened. Why had I expected otherwise?

The fairy moved, quick and skittish, circling around the Hero's head twice before coming to a stop in front of his face.

"Let's get out of here!"

I could not find fault with her for sounding upset. Because of who and what I am, I never enjoyed setting foot in any temple or shrine to the Trinity even before the Black King rose to power. Now, seven years after that day, the Temple of Time had gained an ominous undertone to its serenity and seemed to house the proverbial calm before the storm. Whether it was the lack of light through the windows or the utter silence from outside, save the howling of the wind, the temple had become almost frightening to those two. Even I was feeling more disquieted within its halls and I have seen nightmares walking the world in flesh.

So, no, I did not blame them for wishing to leave.

What I _did_ find fault for, what I found to be almost disgusting, was the fact that neither of them had taken the slightest notice of my presence.

It was unfair of me to expect it from the Hero, maybe, but that fairy should have been able to sense my presence, even if she could not actually see me. Had seven years been enough to rattle her wits? The eyes of a Sheikah can manipulate the mundane beings of this world easily enough, but one of the Fea should not be so trusting and not _that_ Fea in particular. Her negligence could cost the Hero his life and that was nigh unforgivable.

So I stepped out from the shadows behind the pedestal and dropped all pretence of stealth, something I actually had to work for. To allow the sound of my boots hitting the floor, to allow the rasp of leather and cloth as I moved, to sheath the knife I had drawn not a minute before and present myself in plain sight to these strangers, who I could have killed a dozen times over, as someone who meant no harm; these things went against my grain and it near lifted the hair off my neck.

I will not give him any credit for realizing I was there _after_ I allowed him to. Anyone would have heard my footsteps and any warrior with decent instincts would have sensed my presence. Even then, when I came to a stop before the pedestal, there was a moment when he hesitated. No doubt he was running through his options, but even that was too slow, too trusting. If I had been anyone else, any_thing_ else, I would not have given him that courtesy. If he did not understand that, I would have to teach him very quickly.

A heartbeat passed with him standing frozen, his back to me. The crest of the Hyrulian royal family, laid atop the steel of his shield, nearly glowed in the dark. It had been polished recently, but by who? Certainly not him.

Then the tense peace shattered and he drew the Master Sword.

In spite of his confusion, in spite of his weakness born from seven years of atrophy, there was a moment when he held the Sword of Evil's Bane straight and unflinching at my face.

And I knew fear.

The man I had seen was gone and in his place was a warrior, like me, but so much different.

Then his arm shook, the blade's point swayed off center, and he collapsed on one knee. His shield, which he had slung onto his right arm with the same blinding speed that he used to draw the Master Sword, was nearly dragging him entirely to the floor. The blade itself was no better. He was holding onto the hilt as tightly as he could, I saw that clearly, but he literally _could not_ bring it to bear on me, even on the floor as he was.

"Link?"

The fairy was whirling around his shoulders, frantically calling his name. The Hero himself was still staring at me, but the blank look of do-or-die had faded from his face and now he was simply terrified. His breath came in great, heaving gasps and I saw his cheeks staining themselves bright red. He was trembling, but not with fear.

Not a minute after leaving the Sacred Realm and he was already exhausted.

There are, I recall thinking, no words for this, but pathetic.

"I have been waiting for you, Hero of Time…."

Looking back, I can now see how that may be misconstrued as malevolence. Had I taken a moment to think about things from their point of view, I confess that having a stranger step out of seemingly nowhere and say that he had been waiting for me would not be a quick way to gain my trust.

"'When evil rules all, an awakening voice from the Sacred Realm will call those destined to be Sages, who dwell in the five temples. One in a deep forest; one on a high mountain; one under a vast lake; one within the house of the dead; one within a goddess of the sand. Together with the Hero of Time, the awakened ones will bind the evil and return the light of peace to the land….'"

Those words had been drilled into me, along with many others, as a part of my heritage and duty. In many ways, they as much a part of me as the armor and weapons I carried.

So, too, perhaps, was the man in front of me.

"This is the legend of the temples passed down by my people, the Sheik'ah."

And just like that, I had done the unthinkable and tossed away the last shreds of secrecy that guarded my identity. I had just met him and already he was making me break tradition after tradition, habit after habit.

If I had known then that it was only the beginning of such tendencies, I do believe I would have wanted to vomit.

"I am Sheik, a survivor of the Sheik'ah. I have been ordered to help you awaken the Sages."

"You… you're like Impa?" The Hero panted.

"Yes. She is a part of my tribe," I responded.

"Le… Lemme see your eyes," he forced out.

Was he truly that out of breath? Our impossible task had just risen a bit higher.

Even in the unearthly light that always seemed to shine around the pedestal, my cowl and hair still hid most of my face. I stepped forward two paces and knelt to be even with his face.

We are the Sheik'ah, the Shadow Folk. Even in our prime, when we numbered in the hundreds, we took care to remain hidden. Few knew we existed for certain, even less knew anything about us.

But through rumor and legend, everyone knows about our eyes.

He stared at them for four seconds – too long – and then looked away, his muscles finally relaxing.

"Okay. You're Sheik. So," he looked up at me again and he seemed to be smaller, somehow.

"What now?"

I blinked, feeling confused. "Now we leave. You did not expect to stay here, did you?"

"Well, no, but," the Hero laughed uncomfortably and gestured around. "I'm not… feeling too great right now. I'm not sure I can walk very far."

"You must," I said simply.

I stood up and pulled him up along with me. His knees would not lock and he fell on top of me. Reflex, that old friend, kicked in hard and I had a knife in my left hand just as I braced him with my right.

That was twice now that this man had made me draw a knife without actually presenting me with a threat. It was getting rather irritating.

"Stretch your legs," I said. "Walk slowly until you have the feel of them, but do not fall. We must leave immediately."

"Why? What's wrong?" Navi asked.

I began walking towards the doors, towing the Hero behind me with one hand.

"Ganondorf is practically on top of us. Even on the slight chance that his creatures missed your arrival, he most certainly would not. Someone or something will be coming to examine what happened soon and we must not be here when they arrive."

"What?" The fairy yelled. Her small, glowing body zoomed down and began darting and weaving around the Hero as she shouted encouragement and orders.

"Link, come on! Move it! We gotta go right now!"

"Navi, I heard him too and I'm trying my best!" The Hero snapped back.

If that was his best, then I was going to have a serious problem getting him out of the market town. We were moving nearly at a crawl and behind me I could feel him swaying back and forth with each step. It would not do. We had to move faster.

I stepped back and slid my shoulders beneath the arm of the hand I held. The Hero blinked incomprehensibly at me and then yelped when I stepped forward, dragging him with me.

"Move your legs," I said when he nearly dragged us both down to the floor with his immobility.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Moving you as best I can," I snapped, finally beginning to lose my patience. "We need to leave _now_ and you are taking too long."

Mercifully, he did not protest further and began shuffling his legs as best he could to match my pace. We were still moving at a turtle's pace as we exited the Temple of Time and stepped out into the night.

That was the one moment when he froze utterly and became a living statue. He stopped breathing for a moment – with his chest pressed against mine, I could feel the very beating of his heart – and something like a whine gurgled out of his mouth. His eyes, vacant like a scared child's, locked onto mine.

"What is this?" The Hero moaned.

"_Move_," I ordered. When his legs stayed still, I pressed forward anyway. Half led and half carried, he had no choice but to follow me.

"What is this?" The Hero asked again, his voice louder. "This isn't the town, is it?"

"Be silent," I replied. "Noise draws attention."

There was nothing waiting for us in temple's gardens. That only made my tension rise. We reached the fence that surrounded the grounds and it rose further. A hole had been ripped across our reality, such as our world had not seen in seven years. Anyone and anything with the slightest arcane sense would have felt it across the entire continent, perhaps even further, and yet nothing had appeared to bar our way. One of the bearers of the Triforce, the essence of the Goddesses, was not ten miles from our position and yet he did not come. The elders say _death comes from the shadows behind_, but that was not Ganondorf's way. He destroyed anything that crossed him with the brute force of a storm, but no such disaster had befallen us by the time I boosted the Hero over the temple fence and vaulted after him. It was as though no one and nothing had sensed anything amiss, which of course meant something was deeply wrong.

My original plan had been to take the Hero through the market square itself. It was the fastest way out of the town and the wide open space would allow for better fighting when the inevitable horde descended on us. His condition upon emerging from the Sacred Realm and the disturbing lack of a horde changed that. He clearly was not in any condition to fight or sprint, which ruled out the market square. Even on the best of days, there were Redeads waiting to paralyze and devour the unwary. I could not count on the Hero being able to evade their gaze and grip when he could not so much as walk without staggering from side to side like a drunkard. Additionally, the feeling of a trap slowly closing around my neck made me want the small, shadowed back alleys of the town; those were conditions that I favored, things that would make it easier to protect the Hero or escape our foes, if need be.

We crept through those alleys, the Hero, the fairy and I, treating every small rustle as though an army were about to burst from the shadows. The fairy was, at first, a concern to me. Her bright light would draw the gaze of many potential threats, but that in itself was soon turned to our advantage. I asked her to fly ahead of us, lighting the way and drawing out any threats. By some miracle, nothing truly dangerous crossed our path. Two Redeads and a Poe were all that we saw that night, and only the second Redead forced a confrontation. Before that, we found ways of bypassing the threats while Navi made a lure of herself, bobbing ahead of them to keep their attention. The Redead we could not evade I eliminated from afar and waited to see if anything would crawl free from the darkness to eat its flesh. Nothing did. Not long after that, we reached the town walls.

The cobblestones of the street had been torn up around the gutter years before, probably by one of my own, to form a quick entrance to the sewer system beneath. The tunnels were smaller than I was tall, forcing me to hunch over as I walked. The Hero, a Hylian several inches taller than I, was even worse off. He was forced to keep both hands on either side of the tunnel for balance as he shuffled behind me, both of us following the fairy's light as she floated towards the dimly glowing circle that marked the area where the tunnel opened into a drainage ditch. Slime, mud formed over a period of years and stagnant water splashed around our feet as we went. The bars that had once blocked the mouth of the tunnel had been filed off, very likely by the same enterprising individual who had made that rough opening into the sewer. I did not know for sure who had done it, but I was thankful that they had informed Impa of its existence. Had I not had a vague remembrance of her words regarding that particular passage into and out of the town, leaving with the Hero would likely have been much more difficult.

I dropped out of the tunnel and slid down to the moat that had once surrounded the south end of Castle Town with clean water. By the time the Hero fell into it, the waters were fouled and barely moving. Scum coated the top of the water and a vile stench filled the air. I knew that Ganondorf sometimes threw the bones and flesh of those he killed over the walls of the town and, doubtless, I was swimming over those remains as they rotted beneath my feet.

Behind me, the Hero was flailing and gagging pitifully every other second. The fairy was bobbing gently in front of him, whispering encouragement to his ears. It was only the work of a few short strokes to reach the other end of the moat for me. One heave and I was out of the stagnant water, dripping onto the dried, dead grass that sprouted as far as the eye could see. Turning to check on the progress of my charge, I found him only halfway across the water. His movements were weak and slow; his mouth and nose dipped beneath the surface often as he failed to keep his head up.

Pathetic.

He managed a few more dismal strokes and those, thankfully, brought him within my grabbing range. I seized his wrist and pulled, hauling him halfway out of the water and no further. Between his waterlogged clothes and his weapons, he was too heavy to lift without use of my legs. As he sputtered like a fish (not an inappropriate thought, as I had yanked him out of the water like one), I gathered my legs beneath me and grabbed hold of the bandolier holding the Master Sword to his back. Then I _pulled_.

This time, he left the water entirely, dirty liquid coming in streams from every inch of him. If I smelled as bad as he, any trackers sent after us would be able to follow our trail, even were they blind and deaf. And he just lay there; the Hero of Time, our prophesized savior, shaking and groaning like a newborn horse who has tried to walk for the first time.

Something was waking in me, something sharp and hot. It centered in my gut and spread like sap to my arms, my legs, my fingers, my toes; I itched to do something, though I did not know what.

"Get up," I said. No, ordered.

He groaned and rolled over onto his belly. His arms and legs shuffled feebly, but he did not rise.

"Get. _Up_," I repeated, a razor edge added to my voice. At the time, I did not recall ever speaking like that, ever feeling like that, before in my life. Looking back now, I know different. But then, don't we all try to forget the things that we do not like?

"I can't," the Hero moaned.

Something in me twisted and I was hauling him up by the back of his tunic before he could protest. He leaned against me like an uprooted tree; all weight and no balance. The fairy buzzed agitatedly in front of us, her glow ruining my night sight and her ramblings helping no one.

"Be silent," I said. "If you want to help, then ensure we are not walking into a trap. We cannot stay here and it will be a long walk before we reach our destination."

The fairy hovered in front of me for a long moment and then flittered away. Unkind mutterings trailed in her wake, most of the holding the words 'Sheikah' and 'jerk'.

Floating fool, I thought. I neither need nor want your good opinion of me.

I placed one foot forward and dragged the Hero along with me. And another. And another. After thirty yards, he seemed to find his second wind (such as it was) and began stumbling along as best he could to lighten his burden on me. Each step brought us further from the battered walls of Castle Town and closer to the rocky hills that lay between it and Kakariko Village.

Those hills wrapped around the north, east and most of the west of Castle Town. They were nearly impossible to navigate on foot and, at the time, they were our best bet towards reaching Kakariko without notice. My tribe had been using them for centuries, long before Ganondorf was even born, and although I knew he had sent Gerudo scouts to investigate and navigate the hills in the years since his takeover, I also knew that they had not one-tenth the understanding of them as I did. As barren as they were, monsters would find no sustenance and would surely starve. It was only the undead that we had to fear within them.

Beside me, the Hero huffed with each breath and weighed heavily on my shoulder. The thought that he would collapse before we arrived crossed my mind and I discarded it. I would drag him if need be. This boy, whatever I thought of him, was the one who could kill Ganondorf and end his reign. If he was weak now, I would simply have to make him strong.

And once we arrived at my hiding place, it would be as good of a time as any to start.


	2. Just A Kid Part 2

Getting to the nearest bolt-hole took nearly the entire night. The journey that had taken me three hours earlier in the day took more than twice that with the Hero slowing me down. He did collapse, as it turned out; seven times total. The last four happened very close together and I do believe he would have fallen more often had I not stayed nearby to grab him occasionally when we traversed near steep drops.

When we finally arrived at the slit in the rock of the cliffs that I intended for us to rest in, he let out a sound that I can only call "Hoo_waugh_!" and fell more than walked in. The cave that the slit opened up into was small – barely the size of a kennel – but it had food, blankets and water, which made it perfect for us.

I did a quick check of the cavern and found that the tripwire over the entrance had not been broken, nor had the sand scattered over the ground been disturbed by any feet but my own. We were undiscovered, for the time being.

Behind me, the Hero lay panting on the floor. The fairy was bobbing gently around his head, frantic queries about his health falling from her mouth over and over. I do not know why she bothered. It was apparent to anyone that the Hero was exhausted.

Perfect.

"We'll be staying here for the foreseeable future. Draw your blade," said I.

The Hero groaned and turned his head out of the ground to squint up at me.

"What do you -"

My dagger struck only an inch from his nose.

The Hero squawked and rolled frantically to the side. The entrance was not very wide however, and he was stopped by the rock. I made the act of drawing my second dagger a very visible one. Thankfully, the Hero was not a complete fool and got the message. Awkward and pathetic as he looked, he did manage to get to his feet and draw the Master Sword.

The shield remained on his back. I do not think he had the strength to wield both it and the blade. Certainly, the blade was wavering even with both of his hands wrapped around the hilt.

I advanced.

The Hero retreated swiftly, returning to the small canyon we had entered from. The moon was full and fat, giving me all the light I needed. His face and body were both filthy, and he was on the edge of collapse. I could smell the reek of him, both sweat and fear.

Now, how well could he fight when he was in such a state?

I feinted left, right, and then struck. To his credit, he did not fall for either of the feints. The ease with which I got past his guard was shocking, though. He only began swinging the blade toward me when I was a foot away from him and I had wrapped my free hand around one of his wrists before he was even close to hurting me. Keeping with my forward momentum, I flipped my dagger around and rammed the hilt into his gut. As he coughed up his air and more than a little stomach acid, I pulled on the wrist I had captured, half turned my body to brace against his and pushed the hilt in deeper. With both the pull on his wrist and the push on his gut, it was the work of a second to have him off the ground, flipping through the air and slamming into the dirt.

Dead, I thought.

"Get up and try again," said I, flipping the dagger back around to have the point presented first.

He tried to answer and succeeded only in beginning another coughing fit. Bile and saliva flew up from his mouth, splattering onto the ground and my boots. I felt my irritation rise and shoved it away into the Void. There was peace again.

"If you cannot fight me off, I will hurt you," I warned. "Better that you learn this now and from me."

"Learn _what?"_ the Hero howled, and then he rolled away from my boot as it stomped down hard where his head had been.

"That you must fight when you are threatened, no matter what your circumstances are."

He was on his feet again, reeling, but upright. The Master Sword was nothing but dead weight in his hands. I charged and he lashed it at my face. I swayed to the side and it missed.

This is ridiculous, I thought. He is not even trying. I can read his movements like a book.

The next step was even worse. His strike had left him overextended and he could not pull back to swing at me again. I darted in, kicked one leg out from under him, and had him on his knees with my knife beneath his chin before two seconds had passed.

Dead again.

"Stand," I ordered and stepped back once more.

A tiny ball of light bashed me over the back of my head.

"What are you doing?" the fairy screamed. "You're going to kill him!"

"I'm trying to do the opposite," I replied.

"I can't fight now," said the Hero, still kneeling in the dirt. "I'm sorry, I _can't_ –"

I attacked.

He did not even manage to get to his feet. He simply toppled over to avoid my dagger and then lay there, panting.

"Get up," said I.

"I can't," he replied.

I kicked him in the chest.

"_Stop!"_ The fairy yelled as she charged. I swatted her out of the air and the Master Sword nearly cleaved my left feet straight down the middle.

The Hero was still kneeling, but he had managed to lunge forward on three limbs and use the fourth to attack me. Such a terrible strategy. My next kick caught him on the chin and he fell flat on his back, the Master Sword finally leaving his grip.

The fairy flew around to hover at his nose, sending frantic inquiries to the Hero. He did not answer one of them. He just lay there, staring up at the sky and heaving for breath.

I hefted the dagger in my hand, debated the odds of another assault giving me the reaction I desired, and found them wanting. The dagger was sheathed. I walked over to the Hero and knelt down by his head. The fairy buzzed angrily at me, but a warning look sent her back to sullen silence.

"I can't…." the Hero said quietly, thickly. "I… I know that I'll have to… fight when I'm tired, but… sometimes I just don't have anything else. I _know_ how to fight when… I'm tired or sick or hurt… but I can't… I can't right now. I'm tired and I'm confused and I'm weak and I'm scared, so _stop hurting me._"

He was crying. The sounds he was making degenerated from words to whines and moans, and tears began leaking form his eyes as his face twisted up. He stopped trying to talk to me and simply cried. Whether the shield on his back or his own exhaustion kept him from rolling over to avoid facing me, I do not know, but it was obvious that he wanted to.

As for myself, I had seen enough and I did not like what I had seen.

The Hero of Time, the one who was chosen to wield the greatest weapon against evil in all recorded history, was a mentally immature weakling.

I collected the dagger and walked into the cave to change into clean clothes and eat something. I fed my steady stream of wrath into the Void, putting it where I could not be affected by it.

We are all going to die, I thought.

* * *

><p>Eventually, the Hero did drag himself, literally, back into the cave. When he managed to get over his aversion of being within ten feet of me, he seized the spare clothes I had readied for him and stripped down to get out of his wet tunic and underthings. When he did, I noticed the amount of cuts and contusions that littered his body. I could not say how many were from me and how many were from our journey here, but it did not matter. All would likely cause problems unless taken care of immediately.<p>

I had some medicine that could help with that. Among the supplies left behind in the bolt-hole were three red potions. A swallow of one would fix all his injuries and leave him as though he had never suffered them at all. The problem with that, though….

I lifted one to my eyes and considered.

Magic of any kind was rarer and rarer since Ganondorf had taken up his stolen throne. Aside from the Hyrule Royal Army, the mages of the kingdom were the quickest to die. From a tactical point of view, it ordinarily made sense: one decent battle-mage could equal or surpass an entire squad of soldiers for sheer destructive power; healers could undo the bloody work of his Gerudo soldiers and monsters so long as a spark of life remained within their patient; illusionists could hide whole families from his gaze; seers could forewarn others of his movements.

But this was Ganondorf, and as I said, it only _ordinarily_ made sense.

With the Triforce of power, he was the better of any battle-mage Hyrule had ever taught.

With the Triforce of power, he could force through any illusion the moment he noticed it.

With the Triforce of power, he was a blind spot in the sight of the seers.

Ganondorf Dragmire spent the first year of his bloody rule doing two things: the first was searching high and low for Her Highness, Princess Zelda Harkinian the Second. The second was to begin a campaign of treachery and terror against every single magic user that called Hyrule home, from the lowest hedge-witch to the Magister of the Academia Arcana.

He did the first because he needed to.

He did the second because he wanted to.

There was no one, save maybe the holders of the other two Triforce pieces, who could have stood against him with a hope of victory. The mages did not know this. In the first week of the war, over two hundred gathered with the shattered remnants of the Royal Army and marched on the castle. They sought to drive back the Gerudo soldiers that had followed Ganondorf from the desert, send his creatures howling back to the blackness that spawned them, and wrest the false king from his stolen throne.

And in all three tasks, they failed.

No army met them at the gates. No opposition did they face at any time. They walked over the drawbridge, still lowered from the exodus of the townspeople, and right up to the castle without seeing a single soul. They gathered tightly into battle formation, more confused than afraid, and called for Ganondorf to surrender.

From the highest tower, there was a bright flash of light.

Then that entire company was incinerated.

It was nearly instantaneous, but those within the light had time to feel the agony of what they were being subjected to. I know this because Grei, the Sheik'ah who had been assigned to see if the mad venture actually succeeded, was watching from the lower road the whole time, out of sight. He was very insistent that they had all screamed shortly before the light ended and a vast pile of ash was left where those people had stood.

Grei quite sensibly left soon after.

It was not long after that that the message began to spread. From every refugee of whatever village the Gerudo and the monsters (though many were beginning to see them as one in the same) felt like raiding that day came a message:

'_A week's worth of food for every sorcerer turned in to the King's people.' _

It seemed silly at first. Ganondorf was a tyrant and a regicide. Everyone loathed him, even those who feared him. Who would turn in one of their own for food?

And then the famine hit.

So many villages annihilated. So many farms burned to ash. What was not destroyed was more often than not taken by the Gerudo. No one had any food they could share; few had food they could sell, and those prices soon began to grow. Weeks passed. Months passed. Suddenly, past relationships were not as important as present survival.

The healers made it out of the ordeal best. Even the most desperately starving fool remembers that he can live only to be injured or take ill, it seems. But the others who remained and specialized in other areas did not fare so well. Battle-mages were dangerous, after all. No one wanted to be seen as stirring up trouble by harboring a potential threat to the Black King. Illusionists and enchanters, seers and summoners; they were all deemed bounties, waiting to be reaped.

Some were taken in the night, betrayed by those they trusted. Others were killed and their heads taken as proof. Many simply fled or hid, forsaking all their knowledge and seeking a new life among unfamiliar faces that would never learn what they had been.

Texts that had instructed arcane students were burned. Printing new copies was deemed a crime punishable by drawing and quartering. Viewing of this event was mandatory for all residents of whatever village the lawbreaker lived in.

By the second year of Ganondorf's reign, there was not a soul alive who would admit to being a mage even to douse a fire burning their house down while they were inside it. Even the healers, though they had fared best of the lot, withdrew and hid, hoping to be forgotten. While their neighbors choked on blood and mucus during the consumption epidemic three years later, they remembered and did nothing. Even as I looked at that bottle, when both famine and epidemic had ended, they were still hiding.

Ganondorf had broken the mages of Hyrule, had made them fear their own countrymen, and he had not done this to protect his own people from them, or to prevent another uprising against him. He did not care for his own people. He did not fear any mage.

He had done it because they had challenged him, because they had told him _no _and even their utter defeat at his gates could not assuage his wrathful, wounded pride.

…My apologies. I shall refrain from going off tangent in the future.

What I meant to say was that obtaining any form of magical medicine was very difficult. As I knew the Hero's various injuries were not life threatening, I could not help but wonder whether it would be better to use ordinary salves and time to heal them, rather than one of our few red potions.

Sadly, I had been too long in contemplation and the fairy noticed what I was holding.

"Hey, give that here!"

I was rapidly growing to dislike her voice.

Though my experience with her at that point was small, it still told me that if I did not give the Hero the red potion, my ears would be regretting it for a long time. I was tired then and very much desired a decent six hours of sleep. I walked over to the Hero and broke the wax seal on the bottle.

"Drink some of this," said I.

"Now you care," muttered the Hero, and he downed half the bottle in one long gulp before I could pull it away.

"_Some._ All you have are scratches and those heal with very little. Save the rest for later."

"We're doing this _again?_" The idea seemed to give him a fit.

I felt my eyes narrow and it was an effort not to send him to sleep right then and there. "You have just emerged from a seven year long slumber and your body is incredibly weak. One night's walking and you are fit to collapse. This must be remedied or you will not last long once we get started."

"Beating him up won't change anything. Why'd you do that, anyway?" asked the fairy belligerently.

"As I said previously, I needed to see how well he would fight when he was tired," I responded. "And _he_ needs to learn that he must be ready to defend himself from anything, everywhere, at any time. He is of no use to anyone if he dies."

"And _I_ told you," spat the Hero. He looked much recovered from earlier, having felt the effects of the medicine. "That I wouldn't be able to fight you like that. I know what my limits are and I'd gone past them when you started trying to cut my head off!"

I had done no such thing. Severing limbs from a moving target was always difficult with short blades like mine.

"And then you didn't stop when I asked you to and you didn't stop when Navi asked you to and then you swatted her out of the air and you _suck_ as a guide, do you know that? I have no idea where we are!" yelled the Hero as he finished his little speech.

"We are in the canyons to the north of Hyrule castle town. Is there anything else you would like to know?"

"_Why are you being such a jerk_?"

I confess I did derive some pleasure from seeing him like that.

"I am being no such thing. I am under orders from Princess Zelda to keep you alive and part of that means being absolutely certain that you can fight off whatever threats happen to appear. As we have just seen, you are currently very weak. So, tomorrow, and for as long as necessary after that, we are going to stay here in this canyon and work on your combat skills."

"My what?" He honestly looked baffled.

My mind drew a blank momentarily before I realized that, being of a race that was essentially composed of none but children, a higher vocabulary was not likely something he had.

I foresaw many moments like that one in my future.

"Your fighting skills, Hero," said I.

"Oh, that. I can already fight fine, I just need to rest some," said the Hero.

I took a deep breath in, held it, and let it out. He was a Kokiri. He had never had the education I had. He did not know any better. It was my job to teach him everything I could.

And if he failed to get it right the first time, _then_ I could start punching him. It would be reinforcement at that point.

"Hero," said I, ignoring the "My name is _Link!_" that followed my words. "While your body was cared for during the last seven years, such care did not extend to proper exercise. Do you not remember how heavy the Master Sword was when you first pulled it out and held it at me in the Temple of Time? You had not yet trekked across Hyrule Field then, and yet you were still too weak to hold it for more than a few moments. Do you understand what that means? _You cannot hold your own weapon_."

The Hero turned his head and stared at the blade that he had dropped to the ground upon returning to the cave. He had not even bothered to sheathe it and it lay gleaming dully in the darkness of the cave. While I was fairly sure that nothing had followed us from the town, it would have been tempting fate to light a fire. As for the undead, my people had long ago warded this place from their gaze.

"I can lift it up," said the Hero. His tone was not very confident.

"For how long?" I countered. He said nothing and I pressed harder.

"Could you hold it up for long minutes, swinging it up and down, left and right, again and again, in tandem with a shield strapped to your other arm; a shield which is a whole other weight to carry? Could you draw it to fight after sprinting a full mile in armor? Could you hold it after hours and hours of battle, with yet more to come? As you are now, could you?"

The Hero still stared at the blade, unspeaking, unmoving. The fairy drifted in front of his face, murmuring his name, but he ignored her. His hands came up to wrap around his upper arms, his long fingers digging into his soft flesh. There was no muscle beneath them.

"Well?" I asked. My word had no malice in it.

His hands dropped away and came to rest on the ground. His eyes traveled over the sword, to his shield, to the bag with his meager supplies spilling from the lip. The slingshot that had looked so small in his hand had nearly slipped entirely out. Its rubber string was coiled on the ground like a small white snake.

He blinked and something seemed to pass over his face, leaving it somehow blanker.

"No, I couldn't," admitted the Hero. "If I wasn't tired, maybe I could fight for a minute or two, but then I'd be ready to drop. And then I'd die."

So, he could listen to reason. How happy for us both.

"Correct," I responded. "So, until you can fight to my satisfaction, you and I are going to be sparring each day -"

"Sparring?" interrupted the Hero.

"It means to mock-fight, to practice for battles to come. Do not interrupt me again. As I said, we are going to spar everyday and I will spend our nights telling you what you have missed over the last few years. We will not leave this canyon until you have met my requirements for both physical and mental criteria, so –"

"Criteria? Oh, sorry."

"Standards, Hero, it means standards. So, do not try to convince me otherwise. Understand?"

"I told you to stop calling me Hero," said the Hero, frowning.

"And I told you to never interrupt me again. Go to sleep now."

Ignoring the mutterings of both boy and fairy was easy enough. I had gone to sleep under much more unpleasant atmospheres. The tiny bedrolls stored in the bolt-hole did nothing to cushion the pebble covered ground, but I was too tired to care. The night had been one frustration after another and I wanted nothing more than to regain my patience with six hours of uninterrupted rest.

I breathed in, out, in, out, and slept.


	3. Just A Kid Part 3

Before I begin the details of my time with the Hero again, allow me a few words on my training methods.

Here is the first thing to know – they are what many would call brutal.

I am not so proud as to say that I did not derive some pleasure in seeing the Hero struggle so in his training – in those days there were many moments when I simply hated him, I admit – but from the very beginning, the sole purpose of those lessons was to see him gain the skills necessary to complete his mission and survive. If the choice came down to those two, it would be in that order. So long as the Master Sword found its way into Ganondorf's heart, the Hero could have dropped dead the moment after and I would not have cared one jot. His whole existence was the end of Ganondorf's own and beyond that, he was nothing to me. However, while Ganondorf yet lived, the Hero was everything to me. Only Her Highness was of more importance.

His fighting style was not my own. Although I had learned the basics of sword and shield as a child, it had been years since I had held either. Despite this, I recalled enough of my lessons to be faintly nauseated by what I saw. The Hero slashed with his sword like it was a cleaver or an axe. He used his Hylian shield as the fortress uses its gate – to simply block an attack over and over again until it is crumpled to nothing. Of footwork and breath control, parrying and deflecting, he knew nothing.

So I naturally taught him everything I could and did everything I could to make those lessons stick.

As my own childhood had taught me, pain was an exceptional motivator.

* * *

><p>The sun rose and I rose with it.<p>

We had slept for some six hours and the sun was turning the dark sky a pale pink as I left the shelter of the bolt-hole to look outside. It would be some hours yet before the sun was high enough to fully illuminate the canyon and its high walls, but even weak light like that was unbearable to the restless dead. So long as nothing living stumbled over our sanctuary, we would be safe until nightfall at least.

So, to business.

Rousing the Hero proved easy enough. One sharp word sent him scrambling in the dirt for a weapon, his eyes snapping open, but seeing nothing.

It was the fairy who brought him to true wakefulness, calling his name loudly and freezing him in place. Then he blinked and sanity returned to his eyes.

"Navi, was I having a nightmare again?" The Hero asked sleepily.

"No, it's just time to get up," the fairy responded. Then, in a bitter mutter, "Apparently."

"We have slept long enough," said I. "If you truly wish to return to slumber, then finish your activities today that much sooner. Now, rise and eat. We have much to do."

He took no offense at our breakfast, which was just as well. If he had complained over something as insignificant as a meal of flatbread and smoked meat, I may have truly punched him, hot as my banked temper was burning. As it was, he simply made an 'hm' sound and bit into his food. The entire meal was devoured within a minute. I am not sure if he chewed at all.

Actually, now that I recall it, I do not remember him opening his mouth either. The food was in his hands and then it was gone.

Odd.

"So, what is it that we're doing today?" The Hero finally asked, after consigning the food I had given him to some nameless, unending void.

"An evaluation, followed by the beginning of your training."

"…A what?"

"Evaluation. It means I want to see what you can already do."

"Oh," the Hero said. He reached for the Master Sword and his Hylian shield, dragging them across the dirt to guide them to his back. When he had settled his equipment he stood, then suddenly swayed. His hand reached out quickly and latched onto the cave wall. The fairy drifted down in front of his face.

"Link?"

"I… just… got really… dizzy, all of a sudden," the Hero panted.

"Are you going to faint?" I asked.

"No, I think I'm – "

I cut him off sharply. "Then no more delays," I said, and grabbed his other hand as I rose. The Hero gave me one wild-eyed look before I dragged him away from the support of the wall and into the growing sunlight. Behind me, the fairy shrieked in outrage. I ignored her.

The Hero had not traveled more than twenty feet when I let him go, but he was panting heavily already. That did not bode well for me. Or him, either.

"Attack me," I ordered. I was beginning to see that giving him time to worry or complain would be best avoided. As it turned out though, I did not have to give that much concern. The Hero lunged at me the moment I spoke the words. It was an animal's attack, all screaming and fists, but it was still an attack. Apparently I was not the only one growing frustrated.

Initiative – pass.

The surprise of the assault caught me off guard – something I vowed then and there would _never_ happen again – but I still had enough time to side-step and trip the Hero with my foot. He fell, but rolled with the direction of movement and came up again easily. As he did, his left hand came up and wrapped around the Master Sword. It came halfway out of the sheath before he froze, becoming utterly still and looking as though someone had just punched him in the gut.

"I didn't mean –"

I punched him in the gut.

Killing intent – fail.

The Hero's feet left the ground for the second time, now accompanied by most of the air he had left in his lungs. He came down onto his knees and vomited. The fairy, who had finally lost what little temper she had, screamed and flew unerringly for my face. I side-stepped and she flashed harmlessly by.

Rather than try to attack me again, she went for the Hero once she had managed to turn around. Faint glittering motes of healing magic drifted down from her and covered the Hero. After a few moments of the treatment, he was able to stand up again. The look on his face as he glared at me could have curdled milk.

Good.

"You… you….." It did not seem that he could find the words he wanted to say.

"Attack," I commanded.

There was no hesitation this time. The Hero reached behind himself and pulled loose the Hylian shield. He fumbled with it when attempting to buckle the strap around his arm. I attacked instead of waiting. There was nothing better than another punch to show him that he should have already had the shield in place when we left the cave. He managed to bring the shield up in time to intercept my attack, but it did no good as his hand was the only thing keeping it in place. My first strike knocked the shield askance and when my second came, it turned nearly ninety degrees in his grip. My own hand was able to secure a hold on the shield's edge and yank it away at that point. It slid across the dirt and came to a stop well beyond the Hero's reach.

Shield work – fail.

The Hero staggered back and reached for his sword again. It came out in a shining arc that would have terminated where my right shoulder was, quite literally disarming me. I was not about to let that happen. Yet again he was using his weapon with no thought, no skill. Just a simple overhead chop that a woodcutter would use to fill his supply of firewood. If I were immobilized, then perhaps it would be effective, but against a moving opponent?

I stepped _into_ the blow – and he had not been expecting that, if the flash of panic on his face was anything to go by – ducked beneath his upraised arm, grabbed his free hand when he tried to hit me, and drove a knee firmly into his groin. Having a fair idea of what would happen next, I side-stepped for the third time to avoid another round of vomit. The Master Sword hit the dirt as he lost his grip and fell to his knees once again.

Sword play – fail.

The fairy began healing him again and I allowed it. I did, however, take the precaution of kicking the Master Sword away from his hand. That proved unwise. Even though it was only a moment of contact and even though I had my boots on, I could still feel my foot blister as the sword's powerful magic came to furious life when it sensed I was not its master. The stinging pain did not begin to fade after a few moments, as other injuries were prone to, and it caused me a moment of worry. A debilitating injury to my foot was not what I needed. I carefully shifted my weight to the afflicted appendage. Interestingly, the pain did not worsen. Perhaps it was only meant as a deterrent and did not actually cause injury? Well, I was likely fine then.

As it was, I only had an unpleasantly tingling foot, an unpleasantly buzzing fairy, and an unarmed, nauseous Hero. What would he do now?

"Attack," I commanded for the third time.

As he stood up, I was pleasantly surprised to see him refrain from attacking me again. Instead, he simply stared at me for a few long moments. Good. He was thinking. I had wondered if he was capable of it.

The fairy was not idle either. She bobbed slowly around the Hero's head and then zoomed to circle my own, though far beyond the reach of my arms. She was not, however, beyond my needles and I felt a brief urge to show her that before I squashed the impulse down.

She was watching me. He was watching me. I waited.

I saw the attack before it came. The Hero wore white silk beneath his green tunic and the sweat he had already begun to work up made it cling. His muscles, pathetic as they were at that time, were still as visible as anything when they tensed for movement and that tensing told me everything I needed to know.

The slingshot and the boomerang were left behind in the Hero's bag. Although I believed he could still make some use of them, they were now too small to be effective in combat. By the time he had adjusted his grip for the too-small items, his opportunity of attack would more than likely be lost. He knew that and I was not unable to admit he had shown wisdom there.

Some things from his past remained viable options, though. The bomb bag he carried his explosives in; the Deku sticks he wore bundled against his back alongside the Master Sword; and finally, the Deku Nuts, one of which he was throwing my way.

I jumped. The magic that burst out of the small nuts had a very limited range, only about two feet in diameter from where the shell broke open, and once beyond that, I merely had to close my eyes to escape the blinding flash. The Hero opened his eyes to see me unfrozen and on the offensive once more.

"Link, dodge!" The fairy yelled, but to no avail. I slammed into him and knocked him to the ground. The bag of Deku Nuts spilled open and scattered its contents everywhere. The Hero started to rise, but failed when I planted a knee on his chest and put the tip of one of my knives against his cheek.

"Dead," I said.

He was breathing so rapidly that he neared hyperventilation. His face was red and his cap was coming loose.

I was… _disappointed_… but it appeared that we were done for a while.

I got up from his chest (accompanied by a sudden inrush of air from the Hero) and put my knife away. He growled when he had the air to do so and made a swipe for my boots with one hand. I stepped on it.

"Stop that," I ordered. Above my head, the fairy yelled, "Hey!" and beneath my foot, the Hero spat, "No!"

I pressed down harder. "You are done for today. Calm down, gather your things, and catch your breath. You are –"

A high pitched whirring sound came from behind. I ducked, putting even more weight onto the Hero's hand and causing him to yell. The fairy, still trapped in her mad rush for my head, flew past me in a glowing blue blur. She nearly hit the canyon wall before coming to a stop and turning around violently to face me.

"No he's not!" The fairy yelled. "You haven't done anything to help us except to get us out of the town. Everything since then has just been you beating him up over and over again! We don't need that kind of help! Just point us toward Kakariko and go away!"

"You fail to understand the situation, even now. This boy was not even able to fight me for more than two minutes when I was holding back. If he were to go into Hyrule now and throw himself against the forces Ganondorf, he would be slaughtered and this entire world doomed to misery. If that is what you seek, then by all means leave. However, please be aware that I will do _everything_ in my power to stop you."

They had an idea of just what everything in my power was. It put a visible damper on their mutiny.

"Now, back inside," I ordered as I stepped off of the Hero. "There are some things you need to know."

* * *

><p>"You should not be alive," I said.<p>

The Hero glared at me from beneath his messy hair.

"I found enough holes in your attacks to have killed you over a dozen times on a bad day. Now, here are the most important ones:

"The biggest issue is your temper. You kept getting angry when you could not hurt me and that had a poor effect on your judgment. It was only at the end that you stopped attacking me long enough to think out a plan, even if it was a failure."

Yes, I was digging at him. If I had to spend months turning a clumsy fool into a sorcerer-slaying warrior, then I wanted him to know how much enthusiasm I had for that task.

"The second problem is your form. Have you _ever_ had any instruction with a sword?" I asked.

"I practiced a lot whenever I could," the Hero answered, though it was more of a deflection than an answer.

"Not what I asked," I responded. "I will take that as a no then. I assume the same is true for everything else you have?"

"I can use them _fine_," the Hero spat. "I'm not usually this tired, or you would've been in big trouble."

"And that brings us to the final problem," I said. "Take off your tunic so I can have a look."

The Hero was still glaring at me when he tugged the green fabric over his head. Perhaps he thought it would be more effective through a filter. I do not know. The white undershirt followed soon enough and then all three of us had a clear view of the Hero's torso. It was scraped and bruised from the morning spar and that of the night before, but that was not what drew my attention.

From what I knew, the Hero had walked the length and breadth of Hyrule as a boy. The body I saw then was not that of an active person. Not an ounce of muscle could be seen and the skin was paler than that of a dead fish. All of this was new to the Hero evidently, if the way he sucked in his breath was anything to go by.

"I take it you had a bit more muscle when you last looked?" I asked, not entirely without amusement.

"What _is_ this?!" The Hero said, sounding offended and disgusted at the same time. "I was strong as a bear when I went into the Temple of Time." He pinched a bit of skin and fat between his fingers and stuck his tongue out at it.

"My best guess would be that whatever magic kept you alive for seven years had its limits," I said, while prodding and poking the body in front of me ("Hey, that tickles!"). "You needed to be kept alive to fulfill your prophecy, so healthy was a natural follow-up on that, but _fit_ seems to have been overlooked. If I did not know any better, I would say you have never worked a day in your life nor been outside," I added, looking at his pale skin.

"I though he was just stressed," the fairy commented. I did not bother correcting her, because I too had been following that line of thought for a while.

"No, that is not it," I said. Another finger sent at his ribs made him scuttle away. "He simply looks like a man who has not seen the sun for seven years. He moves like a man who has not moved seven years. And what about you, fairy?"

"Eh?" She appeared caught off guard by that.

"You were asleep alongside him, if you will recall," I reminded her. "Do you feel no ill effects from your slumber?"

She took a moment to think about it while the Hero quickly threw his clothes back on. I waited patiently, wanting her to give me a complete report. If it had affected her, I wanted to know how.

At length she said, "I don't think so. I haven't noticed myself getting any more tired than usual and my magic seems fine, if the healing charm I cast earlier was any proof." The mention of the healing charm brought back the reminder of why it had been necessary. She buzzed at me angrily.

"And why are you being all calm and helpful now? Earlier you beat Link black and blue without a care in the world!"

"Yes, and I will be doing it again sooner or later," I admitted shamelessly.

She was going to go into another tirade, I could tell. I had no desire to listen to her ranting, so I cut her off before she could begin.

"As things stand now, he is not able to complete your mission. He tires after only a few minutes of fighting, he has lost most of his arsenal, what remains he has little idea of how to use, you are both unaware of what has transpired in the world, and most of the people who would have helped seven years ago are now either dead or in hiding. I do not mean to be disparaging when I tell you this," I explained calmly, seeing the Hero and the fairy getting more and more upset with each word. "It is simply what the situation is. The moment you begin actively searching for the sacred temples and free them of evil, you will become the target of a man who fancies himself a god and has every reason to believe it. Unless you are prepared for every eventuality, and possibly even if you are, death will find you and Hyrule will continue to suffer under Ganondorf's rule for as long as he lives, and possibly even after. This _must not_ happen," I finished, stressing my last sentence.

He had redressed himself while I spoke. The look on his face had slowly changed from anger to something more placid. When I finished speaking he gave me his reply. Until he began speaking, I had not known I was waiting for one.

"Okay, I get it," the Hero began. He waved a hand in my direction when I tried to speak up. "No, really, I do. It's kind of like when I left the forest the first time, but worse. Nobody knows me or wants to help me, I don't know what will try to kill me and I have to learn how to fight again. Ganondorf doesn't have to hide what he's doing now either. So, if I want to make things better, I need to be a lot more prepared then I am now. I didn't even get one hit on you," he finished ruefully.

"I plan on fixing that," I said. "I am going to be accompanying you until Ganondorf is slain, but I cannot protect you the entire way. More to the point, I cannot use that sword," I pointed at the legendary weapon on his back, "to cut off Ganondorf's head. You can, or rather, you will be able to when I am done with you."

"Do you know how to use a sword?" He asked. A valid question, I had to admit.

"I have had a bit of instruction," I admitted. It was the truth. That it was several years ago and I had not taken up a shield at all since and sword work only a few times, I did not say. "I will be teaching you just the basics for now. Anything more difficult will have to wait."

"Neat," the Hero said with a smile. I wondered how long his good humor would last.

"One thing before we start, though," he said.

?

"What?"

"_Stop being mean_," the Hero ordered sternly. "If you have to knock me down to teach me to dodge, that's fine, but you don't have to be a jerk about it."

That… seemed to be an oxymoron.

"You want to hit you nicely?" I asked for clarification.

"I want you to explain what you're doing and be nicer when you do it. No more insults and _don't_ hit Navi. Ever."

"Tell her to refrain from hurting me and I will."

"I'm right here you know!" Navi said angrily.

The Hero jolted, evidently having been ignoring her. I had a feeling he had learned that skill early on.

"Okay, so, deal?"

Niceties would cost me nothing and, if they gained his further cooperation, could benefit me a great deal. Not such a terrible thing.

"Deal. Now, pick up your sword."

The Hero blanched.

"Eh? You don't mean –"

"We're resuming now."


	4. Just A Kid Part 4

Two days into our arrangement and we had not yet had another outburst like the one that occurred after our first spar.

True to my word, I had explained the purpose behind every attack I launched at the Hero. Every time I countered his own attacks, I would tell him how I had done so and how to prevent it from happening the next time. So long as I gave a reason for it, he never once complained no matter how many times I smashed his face into the dirt. If nothing else, he passed in determination and enthusiasm.

The fairy, too, learned day by day. Her magic was often the only thing that allowed the Hero to get back up for another round. She began taking to hovering around me and shouting out advice to the Hero. Most of it was useless. I quickly learned that she had no more actual combat experience than the Hero. The tricks I used to fool him worked on her more often than not. As these were training exercises meant to improve their combat capabilities, I felt no hesitation in flicking needles, Deku nuts, rocks, and occasionally one of my knives at her.

And no, this was not breaking the agreement with the Hero. He had told me to never _hit_ her. Letting her know with near misses that not all enemies would stand passively for her to analyze them was for her own good.

I had to explain that to him the first time, of course.

* * *

><p>Blade work was the most important. If for any reason he lost his grip on the Master Sword, Hyrule may lose any chance of a future. If for any reason his attack failed to end a threat, the counter attack could destroy a country. Therefore, he must never grow weak; must never miss; must never hesitate.<p>

I flicked rocks at his shoulders, his stomach, his knees, and his face; anywhere I felt like. His job was to bring the blade up and swat them away before they connected. If he failed, the next rock would be even smaller. The first day that passed, the exercise ended with my flinging pebbles at him. The second was only slightly better, and I owned it up to chance. However, to my surprise, it was not a fluke. Although progress was slow, the fact remains that he always improved during each session. Some days it was so faint I barely noticed, but he never even once did worse than he had the day before. Amazing, really.

Beyond coordination, these assaults were among those meant to teach him to strike reflexively. He needed to move without stopping to think about it, to let his eyes guide his hand without the brain interfering. Maybe he had been able to do so effectively before his seven year sleep, but that ability was no longer his. I knew how frantic a fight could be and I knew how valuable the ability to react accurately without needing time to consider was. Without this, he had no hope of success.

When the rock left my hand, a knife took its place. Some days it was just the one. On those days I would grapple with my free hand, pretended I had a shield he had to counter, slipped needles for throwing between my fingers, and introduced his eyes to the dirt I had grabbed when I bent low. I never gave him an easy opening and some days I did not give him one at all. The way he fought told me that he was used to circling his opponents, waiting for them to rush him or grow tired. Not a terrible strategy, but not one that he should use every single time, either. Sometimes you had to cut yourself a path.

Some days I held two knives. I would get in close, jabbing my blades into his skin when he was too slow to block or dodge (which was often) and telling him what he did wrong, how to fix it, and why it was a bad idea. I showed him why a blade such as the Master Sword was better suited to keeping opponents at a pace's distance than up close, and how to kick and punch and smash with his shield to make the enemy retreat back to that distance.

There were times I made him leave the shield behind. With nothing to hide behind, he learned to use his blade as a guard. Then I made him pick the shield back up and learn to use it properly. If he ever even for a moment returned to his previous habit of simply hiding behind it, I went immediately for his knees and showed no mercy.

It was slow, painful work, but as the days passed, I felt my hope begin to return.

Perhaps he was not a lost cause.

* * *

><p>"Have you ever used a bow?"<p>

The Hero looked up at me from his work. No one had ever given him instruction on how to care for his gear and his previous maintenance had begun with sewing up rips and ended with brushing off any visible dirt. Now he knew to oil the leather, wipe the moisture off of metal to prevent rust and sand down any rust that had begun to form. Anything else would have to wait until we had more tools to use.

"A bow? Naw, don't think so," the Hero said. "Arrowheads are really hard to make, and they kill easy besides. Great Deku Tree didn't really like us playing with them."

Great Deku…? Oh yes, the guardian spirit of the forest. It was supposed to look after the Kokiri.

"What about a throwing spear? A sling?"

"You mean, 'do I have anything that I can use to fight from far away?'" he asked for me. "I had my slingshot and my boomerang, and that was about it. I'm down to my bombs now and, well, they explode. I don't like using them in a fight if I can help it. Almost lost my face one time."

Why did that not surprise me?

"…You're getting a bow when we arrive at Kakariko," I said after a moment. "Before that, I'm going to show exactly how to safely use explosives in and out of combat, which you should have learned before you ever picked a bomb up. Who exactly gave you your bombs?"

"Found 'em," the Hero said.

…What?

"What?"

"I found 'em," he said, blissfully unaware of my distress. "I'd gone into Dodongo's Cavern to clear it out for the Gorons and I found a bag full of bombs in a storage chest. There were a lot of tunnels that had been blocked off with rocks and I needed to clear them, so I decided to take the bombs with me. The bomb flowers weren't growing everywhere, so I needed another option and why are you staring at me like that?"

I had crouched down in front of the Hero. He stopped the circular motion of his hand over the shield to fully focus on me. I stared at his face, trying to see any evidence of the mind that I knew to be there and yet had so much trouble understanding.

"Hero, you simply found a bag of what you knew to be dangerous explosives and took it with you?"

"Well, yeah," he said.

"Without any more idea of how to use them than what the bomb flowers had taught you, over a period of what I am guessing to be one or two days?"

"I knew how to –"

"You then proceeded to use them in a mine with no supervision."

"Why would –"

"On tunnels that had collapsed previously and could very easily do so again."

"_They didn't fall_ –"

"And without any idea that maybe you were liable to kill yourself before the monsters could."

"_I knew they were dangerous!_" he shouted. I was lucky the fairy had stepped outside to stretch her wings. She would have joined in with him.

Glaring at me heavily, the Hero kept on with his shouting. "I knew they were dangerous! I'm not that stupid! I saw them shatter boulders to little pieces, you think I didn't know what they could do to me?! I always kept them away from fire, I put them down before I fought Dodongos, I tried my best to never knock them around; _I did everything I could to keep safe!_ I always take everything I can find, because I never know if I'll need it or not and it's worked out fine till now! I check things before I use them and the bombs, they weren't cracked or crushed or anything! So yeah, I took them with me! And good thing I did, because that King Dodongo would have eaten me if I hadn't made him eat the bombs!"

He finished his rant breathing heavily, but not as heavily as the last one. The week of training had begun improving his body's strength already. Good.

"That was luck," I said quietly. "You say you gather everything you can when you can? Fair enough, when you know how to check it over. But those bombs can be dangerous even if the casing is intact. Did you ever find out why they had been left behind in that chest? Maybe the Gorons did not have time to grab them and they were simply left sitting there. Or maybe the powder had been mixed incorrectly and they were awaiting proper disposal. Maybe they would have refused to burst when you needed them. Maybe the fuses were too short. Maybe they were incomplete and filled with nothing at all. How could you tell?"

"I couldn't," he said angrily. "And they still worked _fine_."

He gathered his things and stomped off to continue his maintenance outside the cavern. I watched him go thoughtfully. Scavenging supplies was something I was very familiar with, but I knew how to inspect my finds. Only in the direst of need would I keep something I was not sure I could trust my mission to. The Hero had been a rupeeless wild child with no friends or family to supply him, so his habits could be explained as practicality in his eyes. But in mine? The Hero would need to know what he was grabbing before he grabbed it while I was around.

It was one thing to lose him to a stray arrow. It would be quite another to see his own finds do him in.

* * *

><p>I had pleasantly little to teach him in regards to tracking and concealment. Apparently the Kokiri had made games out of following rabbits and deer, seeing who could go unnoticed the longest. The only problem was taking what he knew and adapting it to an environment that was outside of the forest. We had to leave the bolt hole to venture deeper into the canyon where there was more room to work with. Soon he knew how to look for the cracks in the rock walls that led to hiding places and how to erase any sign of his presence from the dust and rock.<p>

In regards to urban camouflage, he had nothing to show. As we were confined to the canyon for the foreseeable future by our circumstances, I had no decent way to instruct him. I could only tell him what was most obvious about his appearance and character, and tell him what a proper Hylian would do or wear in place of that. Until we arrived in Kakariko, it would have to do. I could instruct him better when we had an urban landscape to practice in.

Code words and phrases were easy enough to pass on. The trouble came in having him repeat them later. I would have to remind him over and over that 'we need cold water now' actually meant 'we are about to be ambushed', 'harp' meant Zelda, 'wise men' meant the Sages, and 'criminal' meant Ganondorf.

I would like to extend credit to Impa for having the wisdom to apply that codename to the Black King even before the coup.

There were others. Over a hundred, and bear in mind that these were only the ones I needed him to know. I myself learned the full range of Sheik'ah code speak, more than one thousand instances of applying one word or phrase of one meaning to another meaning, before I was fourteen. He hardly needed to act as though it was torture. I even allowed him to learn it in Hylian and not Sheik'ah.

And, of course, I had to teach him history.

* * *

><p>"So, what happened after I left?"<p>

I stopped my stirring of the ladle. The soup would have to wait, it seemed.

"I assume you mean after you were locked away in the Sacred Realm?"

The Hero nodded. "When Ganondorf grabbed the Triforce and came back, what happened then?"

I wondered how much of it he needed to hear. I could have spent all night simply going over the slaughter in the market, but that would have only incited him or caused him to feel guilt. Best to skip the gory details and give the bare minimum, I decided. I turned back to the soup. I had no desire to ruin a good meal through inattention.

"We still are not sure precisely sure when Ganondorf entered the Sacred Realm, so we have no way of knowing how long it took him to obtain the Triforce and return. I suppose it does not matter whether he needed time to use its power, or if he simply knew once he touched it. In either case, he returned from the Temple of Time with a weapon of unbelievable destruction that he immediately set out using against the civilian populace and military of Hyrule.

"Hyrule Castle and the town below were the first targets. People by the gate managed to evacuate in time, but everyone deeper into the area was not so lucky. Most of the survivors fled to Kakariko and established new homes there. Of the soldiers, a few rejoined the garrisons stationed in and around Hyrule Field, but most decided it was better to give up the sword.

"Over the next few weeks, the Gerudo tribe and the remains of the Hyrulian forces clashed several times, with the Hyrulians coming out worse for the most part. However, with the promise of reinforcement from the Gorons, they were managing to hold on. While this was happening, Ganondorf, for whatever reason, had yet to emerge from the old castle. He was converting it to what you saw upon leaving the temple. After it was finished, he decided to take to the field.

"The last official battle of the armed forces occurred some three months after opening the Door of Time. It began with Goron troops joining up with Hyrule cavalry in an attempt to strike from the east and west of the Gerudo main camp, which succeeded, and ended with Ganondorf calling down the wrath of Din upon all of the field. Nothing survived.

"After that, there were a few more fights. Some mages attempted to confront him at the castle, there were lightning raids against the Gerudo war parties, and more events of the like. They have stopped since. The only real organized resistance that remains is strictly an underground movement. They take only covert action.

"After crushing the last of the army, Ganondorf sent word throughout all of Hyrule that he was now sovereign lord by right of conquest. If any wished to challenge him for the throne, they were of course welcome to do so. Few took up the offer.

"Beyond that, his declarations were few. He said in no uncertain terms that he expected the Gorons and Zora to come to heel as well. King Darunia, or course, refused and shut the doors of Death Mountain to any Gerudo. Unless the policy has changed since I found you, any of Ganondorf's ilk who trespass there are subject to immediate execution. I have also heard of famine again, as Dodongos are once again beneath the mountain. Aside from that, the Gorons have been quiet.

"The Zora were much the same. Their King did not refuse to continue purifying Hyrule's waters, as that would have harmed those who were innocent, but the gateway of Zora's Domain has been sealed for a long time against any who are not of water. There is no way for them to tell who is friend or who is seeking to do them harm in Ganondorf's name.

"In a broader sense, evil things had begun to stir. Perhaps it is due to the Sacred Realm being opened, or perhaps is it an effect of a holy relic being sullied by the hands of a madman, or perhaps it is something he does deliberately. I do not know. What I do know is that old legends that should not be are living again. The dead were ripping themselves from Hyrule Field seven years ago. A terrible thing, but the war was only ten years past. It could be imagined. Now even the spirits of those whose bodies have long since rotted away are finding reason to appear.

"Monsters breed like rabbits and wander down to towns and villages in broad daylight. In the graveyard of Kakariko there is always a watch on the old tombstones, because nearly every night something tries to claw free from its grave. Old curses thought banished are beginning to show their effects.

"Sickness is becoming a problem for everyone and we have few left who can treat it. Any old soldier or mercenary hides or sells their weapons, because they fear being sold as a troublemaker to the Gerudo who pass through. Contact between villages is dying down, because so many are afraid to travel."

I stopped. I had wandered from the past to the present, and become melancholy. It would do no good.

"My apologies. This has no –"

"Why are you apologizing?"

I looked at him.

His face was curiously blank. I had known the Hero for only a little over ten days by then, but he had never been hard to read until then. This new uncertainty was not welcome.

"I was the one who let him do all of this."

Ah.

There was the guilt I had feared.

(I made a reminder to myself to never tell him about the details of oppression.)

"It was not your fault through malice," I responded, turning back to the pot. "You had what appeared to be a quick and simple solution to a terrible problem, and you chose to take it. Given that you were about ten years old and had little to no help, it was likely the best thing you could have done at the time."

"That makes it better?!" he asked incredulously.

"No," I answered honestly. "You did something that had catastrophic results for more people than anyone cares to count. However, few people know that and you are also part of the solution for that catastrophe."

I pulled the soup off of the fire.

"And if the solution works out, I doubt anyone will remember you as anything but what you must be."

I poured the steaming liquid into a bowl and handed it to him.

"A hero of legend."

* * *

><p>Another day, another test.<p>

(Except not quite the same.)

Begin.

Let him come to me. Sword is raised, shield is raised, fewer openings than before. Good.

Dodge. Be liquid, avoid the strike before it descends.

Circle around him and –

!

Duck!

The sword passes overhead.

Grab the arm, pull, turn, _heave_!

He flies and something grabs my collar.

He falls. A tug. I fall.

We land in the dirt. My knife is at his neck. His shield at my forehead.

He smiles.

"One for me."


End file.
